Sister's Choice

By Emilie Richards

As a surrogate mother for her sister, a young woman navigates family bonds, new horizons, and costly choices in this heartfelt novel.

Kendra and Jamie were never storybook sisters. But after a long estrangement, Jamie has offered Kendra and her husband their ultimate dream: a child of their own.

Despite some lingering misgivings about her once-wayward younger sister, Kendra agrees, and Jamie, a promising architect and single mother, becomes a gestational surrogate for Kendra and Isaac. In addition to this amazing gift of life, Jamie designs a house for the couple on Isaac’s ancestral property along the Shenandoah River. She hopes Kendra will finally see the woman she has become.

But when a medical crisis threatens Jamie’s health and her budding relationship with Kendra’s builder, the enigmatic Cash Rosslyn, Jamie learns that the most difficult choice in her life is still ahead, and its cost may be beyond calculation.

“This special book is one of the best women’s contemporary novels you might read this year, and one that you will recommend to all your friends.” —Fresh Fiction

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Sep 17, 2012
• ISBN: 9781460302989

Emilie Richards

USA TODAY bestselling author Emilie Richards has written more than seventy novels. She has appeared on national television and been quoted in Reader’s Digest, right between Oprah and Thomas Jefferson. Born in Bethesda, Maryland, and raised in St. Petersburg, Florida, Richards has been married for more than forty years to her college sweetheart. She splits her time between Florida and Western New York, where she is currently plotting her next novel.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Most of the time Kendra Taylor found that spending time with her nieces helped fill an empty space inside her. When Alison or Hannah wrapped their chubby arms around her neck or planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek, her primary feeling was gratitude that she and their mother, her younger sister, had finally built a bridge across the abyss of their dysfunctional childhood.

But most of the time also meant there were moments, like this one, when Kendra found herself wishing for more than a day, or even a week, when she and her husband, Isaac, could enjoy the high-voltage electricity of children in their lives. Now, as she watched four-year-old Alison shove a red-and-white Santa Claus hat over her copper Orphan Annie curls, she felt a pang she knew too well.

They’re something, aren’t they?

She turned at her husband’s voice, and saw that Isaac had moved up beside her and was smiling at the little girls, who had woven their way into the crowd of onlookers enjoying the National Christmas Tree on the Ellipse in Washington, D.C. In the background, the White House stood sentinel, as if to discourage snowflake intruders, but the air was chill and promising. Even the most powerful family in the nation might not be able to stop a light dusting later that evening.

They are that, Kendra said, over the warbling of a high-school ensemble faithfully recounting The Night Before Christmas for everybody’s enjoyment. The girls know how to get what they want.

Without shoving or asking for favors, the girls had wormed themselves into front-row positions. Hannah, nearly eight, was instructing her sister on how close she was allowed, but Jamie, their mother, stood two rows behind, near enough to make a lunge in case the ebullient Alison decided to ignore her. There were model trains to tempt any little girl, and fifty additional trees, one for every state. Jamie was taking no chances.

It’s been a great visit, Isaac said.

Kendra linked arms with him and for just a moment rested her head against his shoulder. Jamie’s arrival had been a surprise. They hadn’t seen her since Labor Day, when she and her daughters had flown in to present the plans Jamie had drawn up for a small guest cabin on the property Kendra and Isaac owned in the Shenandoah Valley. Then, on the past Friday, after Kendra had casually mentioned on the phone that she and Isaac had nothing going on that weekend, Jamie and the girls had flown in to surprise them. Since they were scheduled to return in two weeks—on Christmas Eve—this additional trip was puzzling.

To their left, two laughing young couples were shouting down the seconds until five o’clock, when 75,000 lights would glow among the branches. Kendra watched Alison clap her hands as the lights finally came on and the magnificent blue spruce was magically transformed.

I hate to see them leave, even though they’ll be coming right back, Kendra said.

Jamie’s going to be looking for an internship as soon as she finishes her master’s. Has she said where she plans to settle? Could this visit have anything to do with job hunting?

She’s been surprisingly evasive.

Isaac glanced down at her. What do you think that means?

Maybe she knows I’ll disapprove?

Isaac wasn’t classically handsome, but he was easy to look at, tall and broad shouldered, hair and eyes a warm golden-brown, and these days wearing an expression of contentment that softened his strong features. Now he sent her the ghost of a smile as he touched her chin with a gloved finger.

You don’t think Jamie’s beyond needing your approval, K.C.?

When Isaac looked at her sister, Kendra knew he saw the redesigned Jamie, the only one he’d ever known. Sometimes she envied him that view. Yes, the Jamie she saw was at least partly that responsible adult, the excellent mother and fabulous cook, the talented student architect, the forthright young woman who never made self-serving excuses for wandering aimlessly, dangerously, through her young adulthood. This mature Jamie freely admitted to her failures and counseled others to avoid the same traps that had snared her. She was wise, forgiving and hungry to make amends.

But what about the other Jamie, the sister who had disappeared for years, who had given no thought to the pain she caused, who had brought two daughters into the world without allowing Kendra access to them? Unfortunately, that Jamie still lurked at the periphery of Kendra’s vision. In Kendra’s worst nightmares, that Jamie returned, and in an instant their newly established rapport vanished, her nieces were snatched from her life and she and Isaac were left alone again. Without Jamie, without the girls, without hope that children would ever be part of their days.

I’m not sure she needs my approval, Kendra said. But I do think she loves to avoid a hassle.

A pretty common trait. I don’t like hassles either, do you?

She heard the gently veiled reminder to ease up. In the year and a half since Jamie had returned to Kendra’s life, she had been difficult to fault. She was a spontaneous, freewheeling mother, with few stated rules and a tendency to overlook precise bedtimes. But under the thin veneer of anything goes, the girls were learning a solid respect for others, a deep belief in their own abilities and the importance of making good decisions. Jamie seemed to be doing an excellent job.

Worrying is deeply ingrained in me. Kendra squeezed his arm, then let her own fall free so she could wind her scarf tighter around her neck. And right now I’m worried about Alison. She looks beat.

To her credit, apparently Jamie noticed that, too. As Kendra watched, Jamie stretched out her hand and rested it on Alison’s drooping shoulder. Whatever she said did the trick, because Alison wiggled her way to her mother’s side, and in a moment, dark-haired Hannah followed suit.

Maybe she’ll take a nap while we put dinner together, Isaac said.

Kendra doubted that, but she had squirreled away a couple of simple jigsaw puzzles and picture books for a quiet hour. In a moment, Jamie and the girls joined them. Kendra put her arm around Hannah’s shoulder, and Isaac bundled Alison into his arms and out of the flow of the crowd.

You two ready to go home? Kendra asked.

Hannah leaned against her aunt’s hip. She was blithely unaware that she shared her mother’s fine-boned beauty, and today she had garbed herself in a faded denim skirt, an adult-size sweatshirt that displayed Harry Potter’s Gryffindor crest, and olive-and-maroon-striped knee socks. For warmth the ensemble was covered by Kendra’s faux fur jacket, which fell past her knees. Her shoulder-length hair was tied on top of her head with an elastic shoestring. No amount of coaxing on Kendra’s part had convinced her that a barrette would be a better choice, or that a wool cap would be a welcome addition.

Alison is ready. I would choose to stay, but there will be no living with her, Hannah said.

Quelling a smile, Kendra squeezed her niece’s shoulder in commiseration. Hannah was an overly mature eight-year-old with a rich imagination, precise speech and a strong herding instinct. She kept Alison in line; sometimes Kendra suspected she kept Jamie in line, as well.

This way we can beat the crowds to the Metro, Kendra said. And I’ve got hummus and pita chips to snack on while Uncle Isaac and I make dinner.

With an expression of forbearance, Hannah ran ahead to catch up with Isaac and Alison, who were forging a path through the crowd. Kendra was left to pick her way with Jamie. They didn’t speak until the crowd had thinned and they were walking side by side toward the nearest Metrorail stop at McPherson Square for the ride under the Potomac into Arlington.

Jamie glanced at a man who was giving her a visual once-over. She tossed her dark hair over one shoulder and gave him a small smile, just enough to let him know she’d noticed his attention, but not enough to encourage him to approach. Then she turned back to Kendra, who, despite herself, was impressed with her sister’s easy confidence with men.

I’m so glad we could make the trip, Jamie said. It was such a luxury to just hop a plane. All kinds of opportunities have opened up for me, now that I have access to my trust fund.

Kendra had wondered how Jamie would deal with the unseemly amount of money she had recently inherited from their father’s estate. When Kendra’s share had been turned over to her eight years ago, she had left it where it was. She only used a fraction of the available interest for large purchases; most of the time she and Isaac lived within their means. Of course, knowing that they had no reason to save for a rainy day, no mortgage or car payments, meant that they could do almost anything they had the time to.

Until last year, when she had turned twenty-eight and her share had been turned over to her, Jamie had chosen to live on her own, without help or supervision from the estate. She had spent a lot of years counting pennies. The change had to be huge.

I love being able to just get a ticket on the spur of the moment, Jamie said, as if she were reading her sister’s thoughts. But I still went to a broker for the cheapest deal. It’s ingrained in me. I go to the consignment shop to look for clothes for the girls. I clip coupons. She gave a low, musical laugh. I got three cans of creamed corn last week because the third one was free. I was halfway up the aisle before it hit me that none of us like creamed corn, and we don’t have to eat it ever again.

I tried to ignore the impact when the money came to me, but it’s pretty hard. I wondered how you felt.

I’m keeping most of the investments right where they are. Say what you will about Jimmy Dunkirk, but he knew the right people to watch over his money, and I don’t see any reason to change that now.

Jimmy Dunkirk, their father, had died spectacularly—the way he’d lived—in a skydiving accident. Although he had been a careless, absentee father, he had managed to nurture the multiple millions left to him and turn it over to them on his death. Kendra would have preferred love and affection, but she was fairly certain money was the best Jimmy had been capable of.

Now she saw an opening and took it. If nothing else, the money’ll help you get established after you graduate. I know you still have more than a year of graduate school. But have you made plans for what comes next?

They had almost caught up to Isaac and the girls before Jamie answered. Well, to some extent that depends.

What depends on what? Isaac asked, as if he had been part of the conversation all along.

I was quizzing Jamie about her future, Kendra said.

They were interrupted by Alison, who pointed toward a shop across the sidewalk. A few minutes later the girls had to be prodded not to stand forever in front of the Santa display in the window. The moment to find out more about Jamie’s plans was lost.

They reached the Metro stop at last, and Jamie took Hannah’s hand for the escalator ride. Once they arrived at the proper platform, the girls took seats on a bench, and Isaac chatted with them. Kendra followed Jamie to the edge overlooking the rails. Somewhere, echoing in the distance, she could hear a lone violinist playing Silent Night for tips.

Okay, I’ve been waiting for you to notice, and you haven’t, Jamie said.

Notice what?

What’s different about me.

Kendra chewed her lip in concentration. Since Labor Day?

Uh-huh.

Kendra gazed at her sister. Jamie’s hair—one shade from black—was still halfway down her back, falling in waves from a deep widow’s peak. The body under a bright pink ski jacket wasn’t visible, but Kendra hadn’t noticed that Jamie had gained or lost weight. She still wore her jeans tight enough to showcase a small waist and narrow hips. She still attracted attention just by the way she carried herself and met the eyes of any man who cared to look her way.

Isaac joined them, turned slightly so he could still see the girls. I haven’t seen you smoke.

Kendra realized he was right. Did you quit? she asked Jamie. You’ve always been so careful about smoking outside that I just didn’t pay attention.

I quit. Jamie nodded to Isaac. Right after I got back to Michigan after Labor Day.

Good for you. Kendra gently punched her sister’s arm.

Yeah, way to go, Isaac said.

Kendra heard the rumbling of a train heading their way. What made you do it?

I never smoke when I’m pregnant.

For a moment Kendra thought she’d heard her sister wrong. Then, when she realized she hadn’t, she searched for an explanation other than the obvious. Jamie was simply pointing out that she could stop and had already proved it twice. Now she was announcing that it was time to make that permanent.

But even as she ran through those possibilities in her mind, Kendra knew that wasn’t what her sister had meant at all. In her own way, Jamie had been answering Kendra’s question about her future. This was not a change of subject but an explanation. As that realization hit her, the void deep inside—the empty place that would never be filled with a child because she could never risk carrying one—throbbed in protest.

Jamie had already proven that she could get pregnant without making an effort. Double proof was sitting on the bench behind them. Hannah and Alison were the product of two casual relationships, and their arrival in the world had been unplanned.

You’re pregnant? she asked, as the train, not yet in sight, grew louder.

Jamie rested her hand on Kendra’s arm. Not yet.

Kendra tried to make sense of this. They were standing on the edge of a subway platform; people streamed by on their way from holiday events downtown. Isaac was beside her, and they were going home for a quiet family evening before Jamie and the girls disappeared again. But there was something here she didn’t understand, something large enough that Jamie had chosen this moment to play it down. She had needed the crowd, the rush, the noise, to make her announcement.

I don’t get it, Kendra said, and she heard the edge to her words. You’ve decided to have another baby? While you’re in grad school? Is there a man in the picture? Somebody you’re in love with?

No, somebody else is in love with this man. Jamie searched her sister’s face. Her smile was tentative. "You were asking about my plans for the future. Well, in the immediate future, I want to have another baby. Your baby, Ken. Yours and Isaac’s."

Kendra stared speechlessly at her sister, but Jamie went on.

"I want to be your surrogate. I’m in perfect health, and my doctor’s given me the go-ahead. You can conceive, and I can carry. There’s nothing I want to do more, and I want to do it this summer, when I’ll have some of my basic graduate work behind me. I can live in the guest cabin out in the Valley—if it’s finished by then—and keep an eye on the crew building your new house and learn some things while I’m at it. You’re getting those plans for Christmas, by the way."

Jamie…

Jamie held up her hand. I can do some work on my own and take a break from formal classes until I’m sure what area I want to concentrate on. The timing’s right for me, and I know it’s right for you.

The train appeared, then slowed as it approached the platform, but Kendra might as well have been standing on a newly discovered planet. She didn’t know the language to communicate what she was feeling. Somewhere deep inside she thought that the girls must have felt just this way as they waited, breaths held, for the Christmas tree to blaze into life.

Jamie rested her hand on Kendra’s arm. Don’t make this hard, Ken. It’s easy. All you have to do is say yes. Let me do this for you and Isaac. Let me do it for all of us.

1

Jamie Dunkirk could sell almost anything. Maybe her talents hadn’t always been put to the best uses, but in her twenty-nine years, she had proven her ability to make quick connections and convince likely targets they had to have whatever she was peddling. Without conceit, she knew that nobody was better at building excitement until a buyer was ready to take the plunge.

Still, nothing she had sold in all her years had been as difficult as selling Kendra and Isaac on her offer to carry their baby.

In the end, her sister and brother-in-law’s deep yearning for a child, not her own expert salesmanship, had prevailed. They hadn’t been easily swayed by words. They had considered and reconsidered all the things that could go wrong, then balanced them against the possibility of a baby, their very own baby, in their arms. The scales had been heavily tipped.

Now, if luck and Mother Nature did their part, one of the embryos a doctor had placed inside her three days ago was settling in for nine months of incredible changes. And when that baby emerged and she presented the squalling, sticky bundle to its rightful parents, Jamie knew she would finally have sold herself the most important commodity of all.

Forgiveness.

Really!

As so often happened, a living, breathing child interrupted Jamie’s train of thought. Really, we have to be there, Hannah said. Are you sure we haven’t passed it?

Jamie glanced at the passenger seat of her minivan and saw that once again her older daughter was tracing their route on the Virginia map with her index finger. A callus was sure to develop before they arrived in Toms Brook.

The exit is just ahead, Jamie said. And Aunt Kendra’s still following us. Right? Don’t you think she would have called me on the cell phone if I passed the turn by mistake?

Hannah looked frazzled, but Jamie couldn’t blame her. Since the end of May, their lives had changed so drastically that even the adaptable Hannah hadn’t been able to keep up. First they had terminated the lease on their house in Michigan—the only home Hannah really remembered—then they had packed their belongings and put most of them in storage. Finally Hannah and Alison had said goodbye to the friends and parents of friends who had peopled their little world. The future was a question mark, and even a whole week spent with Kendra and Isaac hadn’t cured Hannah’s anxiety about what was coming next.

Unfortunately that was just for starters. Hannah didn’t know that her mother might be pregnant with her aunt and uncle’s baby. There was plenty of time to tell her once the test was positive. The thought of explaining surrogacy to an eight-year-old, even one as mature and intelligent as Hannah, made Jamie long for the simplicity of the birds and the bees.

Hannah looked over her shoulder to see if Kendra really was following them. I have to go to the bathroom.

Which is why I suggested that you forgo that last juice box.

Is there proof I wouldn’t have to go now, if I had? She sounded more interested than combative.

Hannah’s analytical nature was Jamie’s reward for sleeping with Hannah’s father, a hotshot attorney. Larry Clousell wasn’t often on the scene. He didn’t like children and found parenting too complex to master in his brief interludes between high-profile court cases. Still, this little apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree. More and more often Jamie saw flashes of Larry in their daughter, and she knew that before long, Hannah, too, would win every battle she engaged in. By the time Hannah was in college, no doubt Larry and Hannah would discover their similarities and become fast friends—after he apologized for more or less abandoning her as a child. Until then, this verbal sparring was Jamie’s penance.

Hannah, what goes in must come out. That’s a general rule of physics, and it applies here. We’ll be there soon. You can wait.

You’re sure of that?

Jamie lightly poked her in the arm. Stop giving me a hard time. I’m tired, too.

I liked the old cabin.

You remember it?

Of course. Hannah rarely pouted, but now she was doing a reasonable imitation. "It had character."

Jamie tried not to smile. Well, now the new cabin will have characters. Two of them. You and Alison. And your aunt and uncle say it’s very inviting.

Do we have to live there if we don’t like it?

Jamie considered. No.

You’re certain?

Who could be more certain? I’m in charge. There are plenty of other places to live. It’s just that this makes sense, don’t you think? The contractors are going to start building Uncle Isaac and Aunt Kendra’s new house using the plans I drew for them. We can live in the cabin, and I can be there to learn some things and watch it go up.

Why did the old one have to burn down?

Because somebody was careless with a cigarette. Another reason not to smoke.

You smoked.

And I quit.

Forever?

I hope so.

Why would you start again?

Jamie wished they were already at the new cabin and the questions were finished. Some things have a very strong pull, even when we know they’re bad for us. That’s why it’s a good idea not to start bad habits. Not starting is pretty easy. Quitting is not.

Like the people at First Step? The ones who are trying to quit using drugs?

You got it.

Is there a list of things I shouldn’t start? So I will know?

You learn them along the way. And I’ll be helping, so you don’t have to worry.

You might want to put them in writing. So I can check every once in a while.

I’ll take that under advisement.

Alison is lucky. She can sleep anywhere. I want to sleep, too, only I have to go to the bathroom.

Jamie was delighted to see the Toms Brook exit sign. Hold on, kiddo. We’ll be there in a few minutes.

That will be just about right. Hannah closed her eyes.

The trip down I-81 had been scenic enough to remind Jamie what was in store for her. But now, turning off the highway and pulling over to give Kendra the lead, she let the cool green of pastures and the rise of mist-shrouded mountains blunt the fears she hadn’t shared with her daughter.

Jamie knew herself better than most people. She had spent a year as a client at First Step, a drug treatment program, then more years as a staff counselor. No professional played games with addicts, because nobody could ever beat one. Addicts were the ultimate gamesmen, so brutal truth was the rule of the day. Her fellow staff members had never been shy about ticking off a list of her faults. She was impulsive and idealistic. Her expectations, particularly of herself, were ridiculous. She was tactful when she should be forthright; she was too slow to give up on losers and too quick to forgive. She continually strove for absolution.

Ron Rosario, the director of First Step, had put it this way: You’re not ever going to be content, Jamie, not until you make some sacrifice so huge that even you’ll feel you’ve made up for the bad times.

So, knowing what she did about herself, Jamie had considered, then reconsidered, the extraordinary idea of becoming Kendra and Isaac’s surrogate.

She wasn’t sure when the idea had taken root. In September, after visiting them and seeing how delighted they were to spend time with her daughters, she had caught an interview on a morning news show with a woman who had carried her infertile sister’s baby.

The story hadn’t shocked her. She’d felt as if a question had been answered, a miracle had been witnessed. Somewhere inside, she must have nurtured this possibility, even if the words hadn’t surfaced. Because when she heard the woman recount the joys of giving her beloved sister a baby she could not bring into the world herself, Jamie had known, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that this was her mission, too.

But she was impulsive. She was prone to idealism. She knew it, had survived having it pounded into her psyche until she understood how she could be harmed by both. So she had researched. She had surfed Internet bulletin boards, spoken to a counselor at a local fertility clinic, consulted with her own doctor. She had scheduled a few personal sessions with Rosario—which were guaranteed to knock the stuffing out of any bad idea. And in the end, the resolve that had formed while she watched that morning news show had grown even stronger.

She would do for Kendra what Kendra could not do for herself because of childhood injuries. She would carry her child. And when she was done, she would hand over the baby to her sister and brother-in-law, knowing that no couple would be better parents or love it more. Selfishly, she would know that she had helped create a cousin for her own daughters, who would never have one otherwise. Together, she and Kendra would raise their beautiful children to be healthy, happy adults. This new generation would have the start that she and Kendra had not. This would be a rebirth of the Dunkirk family.

So, okay, that last part’s a little over-the-top.

Hannah opened her eyes. What?

Jamie realized she had been muttering out loud. "See, we’re at the top of the hill leading down to your aunt and uncle’s land. We’ll be there any minute."

Alison shrieked, not an uncommon occurrence when she first awoke from a nap.

You might want to drive faster, Hannah advised.

I want to get out! Alison shrieked.

Hold on tight. Jamie made noises of sympathy to her youngest and leaned on the accelerator.

Fitch Crossing Road had a Toms Brook address, but the tiny Virginia town was some distance away. The road was narrow and windy. Houses dotted the borders. Some had the shady, inviting front porches of another age, where inhabitants met in the evening to chat or tell stories; others were brick boxes that relied on air-conditioners for relief from the heat and television for entertainment. But no matter which they preferred, neighbors here relied on each other for help and support, rarely on elected or paid officials. Two years before, Kendra had moved here for several months and had made a number of friends.

Although the cabin where Kendra had retreated no longer stood, plans to live permanently on the property had survived. Now Kendra and Isaac wanted to begin rebuilding, with an eye toward moving here in the near future. Kendra hoped to use her experience as an investigative reporter at the Washington Post to freelance or work on a book, and Isaac, who was the head of a fledgling environmental group that concentrated on the health of the nation’s rivers, hoped to move his office here, to the doorstep of the Shenandoah River, one of the waterways that needed his assistance.

Kendra braked, and Jamie followed suit. Then she trailed her sister down a long drive and slowed to a crawl.

The driveway’s a lot better. I think they’ve widened it. They’ve certainly graded it, and this looks like brand-new gravel.

Gravel will be hard to ride a bike on.

Hannah had learned the rudiments of bike riding, but she was still prone to the occasional spill. Jamie had to agree. Spills on gravel would be lethal.

We’ll find good places for you to ride, she promised.

Will there be anybody to play with?

If there isn’t, I’ll pick up your friends and bring them here.

How will I make friends when it’s already summer?

The neighbors are nice. I wouldn’t worry too much. We’ll find friends.

But even as she spoke, Jamie wondered how she and the girls would be greeted. Unless Kendra was completely open with the locals about the surrogacy, Jamie would simply appear to be an unwed mother. Having twice earned that title the normal way, she knew that not everybody would accept her or her children. For some people, the way a child came into the world was far more important than the child itself.

But even if the truth was widely known, there would still be people who felt what she was doing was unnatural and therefore wrong. They would not see that the act of giving birth to her sister’s child was an expression of love, a family miracle. She just hoped those people would keep to themselves and not upset her daughters.

Kendra pulled to a stop before Jamie expected. The ruins of the old cabin were gone, and Kendra parked in the clearing near where they’d been. To Jamie’s surprise, the new cabin that she had designed for her sister was nowhere in sight, although she had envisioned it on the western edge of the Taylors’ property.

She turned off the engine and got out, then opened a rear door to help Alison out of her seat. Did you forget to tell me something? she called to Kendra.

Kendra slammed her door and started toward the van. Sunlight picked out the subtle red highlights in a wealth of brown curls. She was poised and elegant, despite freckles and a generous mouth. Kendra would look equally at home on a polo pony or a yacht, but Jamie knew that what seemed to be an aloof sophistication was just a barrier she erected to keep trespassers away.

Now Kendra snapped her fingers. Oh, darn, I forgot. We didn’t build your cabin after all. I guess you and the girls will have to camp out.

Hannah’s eyes were wide. Is there a tent large enough?

Kendra ruffled her niece’s hair. I was just teasing your mom. There is a cabin, but don’t worry, if you want to sleep in a tent some night, I’ll come down and camp with you.

Alison will want to come, too, and she is often afraid of noises. Hannah eyed her sister, who was rubbing her eyes. We could wait until she’s asleep.

Oh, I think I have a tent big and safe enough for all of us.

So what did you do with the cabin? Jamie’s curiosity was simmering.

I think you’ll be pleased. Kendra pointed to a road winding through the woods that bordered the clearing. We can drive right up to the front door, or we can walk and stretch our legs.

Little House in the Big Woods, Hannah said. Like the book.

"This is more like Little House in the Tiny Woods. Kendra draped an arm over her niece’s shoulders. These woods were cleared sometime in recent history for timber, so there weren’t a lot of big trees to worry about when we selected a site for the cabin. We cleared away the scrub and left the nicest trees in place. I think you’ll love the view. You can see the river below."

Hannah, you’ll be okay? Jamie asked, remembering their bathroom conversation. But Hannah nodded enthusiastically.

They didn’t have to walk for long. The road wound to the right, and a clearing opened up in front of them. Perched in the center was the cabin.

And here’s your mommy’s masterpiece, Kendra said.

Jamie stopped to take in the details. She had not envisioned her plan in this setting, yet it was picture-perfect. The cabin was simple, meant for an occasional weekend getaway until Kendra and Isaac’s new home was ready. Then it would function as a guesthouse or even an office. She had designed it with nearly as much square footage on the wraparound porch as inside. A loft rose over what was essentially one large room with a fireplace. A kitchen, bathroom and bedroom lined up along one side.

For sentiment’s sake, we used a few of the logs we were able to save from Isaac’s grandmother’s cabin for the beams. And the stone from her foundation went into the fireplace. The new with the old. Kendra faced her sister. But it was never meant for a family, Jamie. You know that best of all. Are you sure you want to stay here? You have so many other options.

Jamie had considered all of them. She’d thought about moving somewhere new to begin a job in an architectural firm. Staying in Michigan and finishing the last of her course work. Moving here. Moving to Arlington to be near Kendra and Isaac while she was pregnant with their baby. She knew if she did the latter Kendra could help with the girls and be active in every part of Jamie’s prenatal care.

In the end, she had discounted most of them. The first two options had seemed cruel. Jamie wanted her sister and brother-in-law to witness and participate as their child grew. And trips to and from Michigan, or anywhere else, would tire all of them unnecessarily, particularly if the first in vitro procedure didn’t work.

The last option, moving to Arlington, had presented a different set of problems. Jamie’s relationship with Kendra held promise, but so many things could still go wrong. The phrase nipped in the bud had been coined for situations like this one. She wasn’t sure their relationship would blossom if it was fussed over and cultivated with too much vigor. So in the end, she had chosen to be near, but not too near. She hoped she’d done the right thing.

Jamie shooed the girls in the direction of their new home, and they took off to explore, Alison’s short legs working double-time to keep up with her sister’s.

We’ll give it a try, Ken, but I think we’ll be comfortable. You forget, at this age the girls don’t take up much space. I’ll take the loft, they can take the bedroom.

That’s what I thought you’d do. But you’re not afraid that climbing stairs will be a problem if… Kendra fell silent, as if she was afraid that by speaking her greatest desire out loud, it would never come true.

You’ve got to trust me. I have the most amazing pregnancies. A few steps up to a loft will mean nothing. And I wouldn’t let Alison sleep upstairs with Hannah. She’d swing from the rafters.

At least they’re sturdy rafters.

Although Kendra was trying hard to make light of things, Jamie heard her sister’s fears. Everything in her life was changing, and so much of it was out of her control. As children, Kendra had been Jamie’s only reliable caretaker. Kendra, who was thirty-seven to Jamie’s twenty-nine, had been forced to grow up too soon and assume responsibility for her little sister because nobody else in their unstable family had any interest in doing so. So after a lifetime of being in charge, letting go, when so much was at stake, was alien and frightening.

I know you’d like to watch over me, and wait on my girls hand and foot, Jamie said. I understand that. But we have to have our own life separate from yours and everything else that’s happening. Just don’t worry. I promise that you and Isaac will see lots of us over the next year. By the time this is finished and you’re changing diapers, you may wish we’d stayed in Michigan.

That’s not remotely possible.

When the baby comes, Ken, the girls and I need to have other things going for us. I want them to see this as a gift we gave you while we were going about our ordinary lives. I don’t want the next months to be all about the pregnancy. If they are, it’s going to be too hard for them— she paused —and me to move on the way we’ll need to.

I can see that. Kendra released a deep breath. It’s just that things could go wrong out here.

Jamie thought about all the things that had gone wrong when Kendra had lived on this property. You should know.

Touché.

I promise we won’t burn the place down. We’ll scare away varmints, and if we have a problem with trespassers, I’ll make sure to report them. I’ll have a telephone. We have neighbors. I have a car. There’s a hospital nearby, and a rescue squad. And being pregnant’s not an illness. Maybe we’ll move in with you for that last month or so. We’ll see. But for the time being, you have to relax.

Hannah was up on the porch now, peering into the windows. There’s furniture! Can we go in?

Leave the door open for Alison.

Hannah disappeared. Jamie figured she would find the bathroom on her own, since the house was only about thirty-six by twenty-four feet without the porch.

I hope you like what Isaac and I bought to put inside, Kendra said.

Having you furnish it made it so easy to just put all our stuff in storage. I’m grateful.

You know, anything you need, anything at all, you only have to pick up the telephone.

Jamie stopped just before the porch. From inside she heard squeals of delight. I know you. This place may be small, but it’ll have everything I could ever want.

Impulsively, she reached out and touched her sister’s arm to stop her from going inside. We haven’t really had a chance to be alone and talk. But we’ll need to along the way. I have no qualms about this. I know I’m going to carry a healthy baby to term for you and Isaac. And I know you’re going to be wonderful parents. But there aren’t any manuals for our situation. I’m pretty sure it’s not in any of the guides I consulted when I was pregnant with the girls. So we have to feel our way, and we have to give each other space. Then, when the big payoff comes, we’ll be ready. All of us.

Kendra didn’t look at her. "It’s such a big thing, Jamie. You know how big it is, right? And if I’m scared, how must you feel?"

Well, if you come around to visit often enough, I’ll tell you. That’ll help us both.

I wake up in the middle of the night now and wonder what we’ve forgotten to worry about. You’re right, there aren’t any manuals. What if we’ve forgotten something important, something so important we can’t get around it or over it?

Then we’ll ask somebody for a road map.

What if this comes between us?

Jamie put her arm around her sister’s waist. And what if it binds us together in a brand-new way? Let me do this. Let me give you this. Just have some faith, okay?

Maybe this is hormones? Kendra and Jamie had both been subjected to months of strong hormones to regulate their menstrual cycles and prepare for the implantation. Kendra had provided the eggs and Jamie the perfect host environment and both of them had been poked and prodded almost beyond endurance. Neither had enjoyed the chemical part of the experience, and Jamie was still taking progesterone to improve the odds of implantation.

Maybe you’re just preparing for motherhood, Jamie said. I can guarantee you’ll worry all the time.

Alison threw the door open wide and stepped back out onto the porch. Mommy, bunk beds!

"Oh, good, something new for me to worry about, Jamie said. Will Alison try to crawl up to the top bunk with Hannah and fall on her head?"

It’s the safest system money can buy. I did the research.

See what a good mom you’ll be? So you concentrate on that, and let me take care of the little stuff.

Like having the baby?

Jamie felt a rush of love for her sister and hoped they would stay this connected in the months to come. She squeezed. Nothing to it, Ken. A piece of cake. I promise.

Silently, she prayed she was right.

2

Little lives were not always shaped by big decisions, by moves across country or physical upheavals. More often, the lives of children were shaped by the small decisions, the mundane interactions, the patience required just to avoid leaving footprints on a little girl’s soul. That was when the true mettle of motherhood was tested. Jamie had told herself that from the moment she had become a parent. And from that very moment, she’d learned that following her own good advice wasn’t always going to be easy.

Two adult-free days later, two days of hormones that made her skin crawl and her breasts ache, Jamie summoned a new shot of serenity as she listened to yet another in the barrage of Hannah’s questions.

Our stuff comes today? You’re sure? Manny and Warren can find us?

Busy trying to tame her youngest daughter’s mop of curls, Jamie glanced up and forced herself to wink at her oldest. I dropped a trail of bread crumbs. Don’t you remember? And they promised they’d follow it here.

If you dropped bread crumbs, the birds ate them. We have lived here almost forever.

Two days, Hannah, and the guys just left Michigan yesterday. I promise they’ll find us.

Jamie gently nudged Alison back into a sitting position, grabbed one last lock of hair and teased out the tangles with a wide-toothed comb. Alison, with her pink cheeks, green eyes and copper-colored hair, looked as if she’d just arrived as an exchange child from the Emerald Isle. Her father, Seamus Callahan, had bequeathed her everything except the curls. Those had come from Jamie’s father, Jimmy, an inheritance that Alison shared with her aunt Kendra. Jamie wondered if Kendra’s baby—if there was a baby—would emerge, as Alison had, with curls already plastered to its tiny head.

I wish we had a big truck.

Jamie tried to envision a real moving van creeping up their gravel driveway instead of the Ford Econoline with the two college students she’d hired to bring their personal belongings. We’ll have a big van when we settle somewhere and they bring all our furniture.

But you promise they will have our clothes and toys?

I promise. I promise! Jamie released her hold on Alison, who sprang to her feet and tackled her sister. Hannah, who was habitually braced for this event, caught her and pushed her back toward her mother.

Alison had been as patient as she could manage. I want to go outside!

Jamie nabbed her youngest daughter for a big hug. We can do that. But it’s sunny today. You have to wear a hat. She looked up. Both of you.

Hannah rolled her eyes, but retreated to the pegs beside the back door, where hats and raincoats were hung. Alison followed at a gallop.

Jamie waited where she was. The pegs were child-height. In fact, everything in the cabin had been planned with children in mind. The bedroom closet was sectioned so the girls could hang their clothes on the bottom rack and store more in cubbyholes on the side. The room had shelves along two walls, wide enough for toys and low and strong enough to perch on for play. The state-of-the-art bunk beds had a dresser and two cubbyholes for night treasures. On the porch, two rocking chairs scaled to a child’s shorter legs held special places.

Jamie wasn’t surprised at Kendra’s attention to detail. The cabin was tiny, but Kendra had treated that as an asset. She had scaled down, carefully choosing just the right pieces to make the cabin feel like home. From the Egyptian cotton sheets to the All-Clad cookware, no effort had been spared to make staying there comfortable and easy. In the days since their arrival, Jamie hadn’t needed one thing that Kendra hadn’t provided.

The cabin itself was extraordinary. Jamie had designed it as a class project oriented toward using readily available materials and fixtures that were commonly stocked at lumberyards and big-box stores. In theory, the design was geared toward do-it-yourselfers planning to put up their own vacation nest.

Rosslyn and Rosslyn, Kendra’s builders, had taken her basic plans to an entirely different level. Quality materials and workmanship had been the rule here. The natural cherry cabinets had custom detailing; the counters were desert-sand granite. The lone bathroom, though small, had an etched glass shower surround and slate tile. She was particularly fond of the copper sink mounted on a handcrafted iron pedestal.

She was sorry that she hadn’t been able to participate in the construction of the cabin, but there wasn’t much she would have done differently. Kendra and the Rosslyns had made the cabin

Reviews for Sister's Choice

[donnacooper-1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

A very good story

[readinggeek451 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Another of Richards's Shenandoah Album novels. Jamie and her two young daughters have moved to Virginia to be closer to family. Jamie, who ran away from home at 17 and is only now reconnecting with her sister, offers to be a surrogate mother for Kendra's baby. Meanwhile, she connects with the contractor building Kendra's new house and with his grandmother. Life happens.

[ckplreads · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Reunites readers with families of TomsBrook, Va. from other Shenandoah Valley books by Emilie Richards. Relationships can be perceived as real and current controversial issues are presented. Cozy in that the reader would like to share in the lives of the characters.